


We Used To Play With Wooden Swords

by shortbreadholmes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Brothers, Could be Wincest, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gen, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, Possesion, but doesn't have to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortbreadholmes/pseuds/shortbreadholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never finds out <i>how</i>  Sam finds out about Ezekiel, but it doesn't really matter in the end does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Used To Play With Wooden Swords

Dean doesn't know why he thought it wouldn't end terribly. Maybe he'd hoped that Ezekiel had been right, that _for once_ things would go his way. But that just isn't how the Winchester's lives work. He knows that, so when Sam finally does find out, he's surprised, but not terribly. 

 

"I've got a freaking angel inside of me?" Sam spits, bursting into Dean's room. Dean glances up, caught off guard, and when he meets Sam's eyes he knows there is no way he can lie his way out of this one.

"Look Sammy-" he starts, getting off the bed.

"Don't you "look Sammy" me Dean. An _angel?_ How could you keep this from me?" Sam shouts, he's so angry he's spitting. His hands are curled into fists and Dean notices a slight glow around his brother and he wonders if that's Ezekiel, clinging to his control. 

"Sam I'm sorry, look I _am_ , but after the trials you were dying and there wasn't a thing I could do! This was the only option!" Dean reasons, trying to keep his voice calm. Sam's arm swings out and Dean's lamp crashes into the wall and shatters. 

"I can't believe that after everything we went through with Lucifer you thought this even _was_ an option!" Sam roars, stepping forwards, using his height to control the situation. "There's no way we come out of this clean Dean! This is going to end bad and probably bloody, you know that dammit!"

Anger flares up in Dean's chest, and as much as reason tells him to stand down, he finds himself stepping towards Sam, his own voice raising to match Sam's.

"I wasn't just going to let you die! You'd given up! I made the right decision here, whether you like it or not." Dean growls, his eyes never leaving Sam's face. He's so focused on his brother's face that he doesn't see his fist until it collides with his nose. Dean stumbles backwards, hand flying up to catch the blood already dripping from his nostril. Sam is shaking like a leaf, his face angrier than Dean has seen in years. It rivals Lucifer's rage. 

"I thought we agreed being a _meatsuit_ was never an option." Sam spits, his eyes dark with betrayal. The guilt in Dean's chest is stifling, he can't even open his mouth to apologize. Hurt flashes across Sam's strong features, making him look twenty years younger, and then they shift into a controlled mask. Sam squares his shoulders, and forces a relaxing breath. He turns sharply and walks out of Dean's room. It's several minutes before Dean can move enough to follow him, and by then Sam has a bag thrown over his shoulder, truck keys in his hand, and it storming towards the door. 

"Please Sammy, it was the only way. I couldn't lose you. I'm so sorry, please just let me explain. Don't go Sam. Please don't walk out that door." Dean begs, his voice childlike and broken. They've gone separate ways before, had terrible fights before. But this feels different. Some part of both of them knows that if Sam walks out that door, they're done. For good. If Sam walks out that door, Dean will never,ever get him back. "Please." Dean tries one final time, right behind Sam now, hand on his shoulder. Sam is completely still for one long, horrible minute. 

"Sorry Dean. I can't forgive this one." He says quietly, his voice almost as broken as Dean feels. Then he shrugs off Dean's hand, takes a shaky breath and leaves Dean standing in the doorway, watching the one person he's loved all his life leave him. 

It's so quiet in the bunker that Dean can hear Sam all the way out, hears him shut the door, hears the truck start up and drive away. He doesn't move. He doesn't move when his blood drips from his nose, onto his shirt. He doesn't move when his feet start to get cold. He doesn't move when his back starts to ache from standing in one spot so long. He doesn't move an inch because he knows that the moment he moves, this moment becomes real. 

How could this moment be real. How could Sammy, the little brother he played _knights and dragons_ with, be gone? They'd been through everything together. Every loss they'd suffered, every bad guy they'd fought, every breakfast and beer and Christmas and movie and bad joke for the past thirty years suddenly shattered, gone with the flash of a bulb. It's like a sword, thrust between his ribs and twisted slowly around. It's like fire, licking and melting his skin. It's like a pillow pressed over his face so firmly that no air could ever possibly reach him again. _This is like drowning._ Dean thinks.

And then his legs give out.

 

 

Cas doesn't know how long Dean has been sitting in the doorway when he finds him, but he knows that it is not a good sign. Cas approaches slowly, like one would a cowed dog, and kneels beside his friend. 

"Dean?" He asks softly, a hand brushing along the hunter's shoulder. Dean turns to look at Cas, his eyes glazed with a pain that takes Cas' breath away. "What happened? Where's Sam?" 

Dean tells Castiel everything, his words coming out rushed and hollow, his eyes a mask of pain. After several minutes Dean comes to a stop, his voice breaking in the most horribly, earth-shattering way as he whispers;

"He left Cas. He left me."

Castiel is furious. He's furious with Dean for making this stupid decision. He's furious with Sam for leaving Dean like this. He's furious with himself for not seeing something was off. He's so angry at the goddamn unfairness of this entire situation that he has to bite his tongue to stop from losing it completely. He can't go off now, not while Dean needs him, so he stifles down his anger and locks it away, and puts his arms around Dean's body.

"It's okay Dean we can figure this out. We'll fix this. Sam will come back. Sam _always_ comes back. It's the Winchester way." Cas says, stroking Dean's hair as the hunter's body shakes. Cas has only seen Dean cry on a few occasions, and it's always quick and controlled and wiped away before it can interfere with anything, but this is different. Sobs tear through Dean's chest, and Cas can feel their vibrations right down to his core. Dean doesn't even sound like Dean, he just sounds like agony vocalized. Something has shattered inside of Dean, and nothing in his entire life has terrified Cas as much as this moment. _Sam what have you done?_ He thinks desperately, clinging to his distraught lover. All Cas can do is hold him, and hope than when the sobs have dried up, there's enough of the man he loves left to patch him back together again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends. My this is a touch angstier than my usual isn't it?
> 
> I got inspiration from a prompt. I'm so nervous for the way this season is going to play out. Hopefully not like this! :P
> 
> As always comments are HIGHLY appreciated. This will probably get edited several times, so if you make suggestions I might take them!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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